


Revolution

by Dream_In_Color



Series: Revolution [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Original Character(s), Post-Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-06 22:10:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12827157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dream_In_Color/pseuds/Dream_In_Color
Summary: Gabe has been fighting his feelings for years. Micks has been doing everything he can to get past that barrier.ORThe day Gabe finally gets out of his own head and Micks gets the thing he wants most in the world.





	Revolution

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first piece of original work I've ever posted online...  
> Constructive comments are always appreciated. 
> 
> Enjoy!

_DREAM_ is written between Gabriel’s shoulder blades. Micks reaches his hand out and lightly brushes his fingers across the older man’s tattoo.

“Micks.” Gabe breathes. It’s half-way a warning and half-way a plea. _Stop. **Don’t stop.** Fuck off. **Fuck me.**_

Micks freezes, looks in the general direction of Gabe’s face, but doesn’t pull away. After an agonizingly silent minute, assessing if he was toeing the line or had already crossed it, he leans forward and presses his lips to the delicately drawn **E**.

With his lips pressed to the older man’s skin, he can feel Gabe’s breath hitch, a silent gasp, and he knows he’s got one foot over that line now, so why not see how far he can get this time.

The blond pulls back slightly, enough that his lips disconnect but his nose still brushes against his skin as he moves toward the letter **D**. He presses soft, tender kisses to each letter then returns to the centered **E** , pressing a third kiss there before Gabe speaks again.

“Micks.” He says again, eyes closed and trying as hard as he can to keep his blood from rushing south any more than it already has. It’s been a long time since he’s been with anyone, longer since he’s been with a man. _He’s not a man, he’s a kid. **No he’s not.** He’s too young for me. **He’s an adult.** I’m old enough to be his father. **That’s an exaggeration.**_

Gabe is still arguing with himself when Micks leans up, pushing up onto his toes a bit to compensate for the height difference and presses a kiss to the junction of his neck and shoulder, his hands finding purchase on his hips. The blond’s thumbs rub small circles on his skin, the rest of his fingers blocked by the fabric of Gabe’s pants. _Thankfully. **Unfortunately.**_

“I’m too old for you.” Gabe finally says and he can feel Micks smile against his shoulder.

“You know how I feel about numbers.” He says, not moving.

Gabe huffs a bit, a semblance of a laugh. “You’re too young.”

“I’m nineteen.” Voice harsh, like that one answer solves everything, and to be fair, they’ve had this conversation many times. “The law says I’m an adult and I’ve been taking care of myself long enough to know what I want.” He finishes, voice softer than before, pressing another kiss to Gabe’s shoulder.

“Laws don’t exist anymore.” Gabe whispers.

“Exactly.” Micks counters, smirking, and Gabe could hear it in the way he said that single word just as much as he could feel it on his skin. There’s a pause and the younger man shifts, lips next to Gabe’s ear now, and breaths out “Please,” kissing the small tattoo of a paw print just behind his ear.

He turns slowly, just his head at first, half-way, to look at Micks, who’s looking back up at him from beneath his eyelashes and his bangs and _( **Fuck.** )_ if that didn’t work on him like nothing else.

He turns the rest of his body and Micks pulls back a bit, just a bit, but his hands stay in place, thumbs brushing a line along the top of Gabe’s jeans as he turns in the boy’s _( **Man’s** )_ hands.

He looks down at the nineteen-year-old, blond ball of fucking energy he’s been looking out for, grown accustomed to, fallen in love with. _Fuck. **Fuck.**_ _No. **Yes.** Shit. **Yeah.** Don’t do it. **Fuckin’ do it.**_

He focuses in on Micks’ eyes, the pupils blown wide with lust and the way they keep flickering between Gabe’s own eyes and his mouth. They’ve been here before, close, so close, walking the line, but Gabe’s always put a stop to it, pushed Micks away, walked out, something. He doesn’t think he can this time. Not sure he wants to, anyway.

Micks inches a bit closer, thumbs brushing at the skin of Gabe’s hips again. The blond leans up, closer to his face, and before he had consciously decided what he’s doing, he’s leaning down, pressing their lips together.

Micks melts against him. It’s instantaneous, really. The moment their lips finally touch, the moment Gabe gives in, stops fighting it.

It’s a blur, really. It’s all teeth, tongue, hands. It’s tight heat and breathless moans and Micks literally _begging_ Gabe not to stop.

It’s been so long for either of them, if they’re honest, and everything happens so fast. They’ve been building up to this practically since the day they met. The dam has broken and the flood is consuming them.

It’s remembering to breathe as they’re coming down, still pressed together, arms and legs tangled. It’s Micks whispered confession, one that seems a hundred times more real, important, sacred, in that voice, in that moment, than the thousand times it’d been said before.

_I love you._

It’s Gabe finally saying it back.

_I love you too._


End file.
